


Compact

by gryffindormischief



Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [54]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny isn't overly tall, and she usually doesn't mind. Usually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compact

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of bizarre. It started with a prompt and somehow we got here 2,000+ words later. I made myself laugh, so hopefully someone else will too :)

Ginny didn't mind being short. Really. In fact it had benefited her often in her personal _and_ professional life. People, whether brothers or Quidditch opponents, constantly underestimated her abilities and sheer gritty determination based solely on what some would call her…diminutive stature. Plus, for the every day stuff, she's a witch, so it isn't like reaching the top shelf is a big deal. With a quick flick of her wand, that all important and nearly forgotten packet of biscuits flies into her waiting hands, read to be devoured.

So, it's safe to say Ginny didn't much think about her height, compensating with skill and a fiery personality that practically _begged_ someone to give her a reason to perform a bat bogey hex. This was the state of affairs for most of her existence; that is until she moved in with Harry and he decided to show off how tall _he_ was any chance he got.

Somehow, the blasted man always manages to show up when Ginny is about to retrieve something from its high perch – whether a clean set of sheets, Harry's old Weasley jumper, or the sack of flour she only pulls out when a sudden need to be domestic washes over her on a lazy Saturday afternoon. No matter the object, as soon as she tries to summon it, his long, lanky hand appears and he's handing it to her with that stupid smile she wants to kiss and smack in equal parts. Perhaps not equal, he _is_ rather cute, but there's still a definite need to smack...and then maybe kiss it better.

 _Anyway_. One particular evening, Ginny decided this had gone on long enough, and after a fortifying cup of tea so strong her spoon stood up in it, that may or may not have had a shot or three of firewhisky in it, she had resolved to confront her beast of a husband. Well not a beast but she has to get revved up and name-calling helps, a practice Gwenog encourages and Molly Weasley tolerates with flared nostrils and violently clicking knitting needles.

And so it was that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, youngest seeker in a century, Auror extraordinaire, came to be stuck to his own kitchen cabinets with his wife tapping her foot impatiently.

"Er-"

"I don't like this Potter."

Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably, "My bum?"

Ginny pushed herself up on the counter next to her husband, stern expression brooking no argument, "Don't be obtuse."

Eyes mischievous, Harry smirked, "Are you showing off your vocabulary again?"

Polishing her faithful wand on her pajama pants – Harry's old sweats – she raised a dramatic brow, "I can't help it. _I_ am a Hogwarts graduate."

Nodding knowingly, Harry flexed his arms to keep the blood flow, "Ah yes. Seventh year is _known_ for English grammar courses."

With a flick to his nose, Ginny scoffed, "Stuff it."

Harry scrunched said nose, pushing his slipping spectacles back up slightly in the process, "Er, not to be a bother-"

Ginny pulled a leg up underneath her, swinging the other, thumping against the lower cabinets on the down stroke, "Too late."

"Oi."

"Back to my point."

Harry furrowed his brow trying to recall, "My glorious arse?"

Peering around his stretched back, Ginny nodded her assent, "You _do_ have a glorious arse, but no. My point is this whole getting stuff down for me thing."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Right," Harry nodded again, although he appeared much less knowing than previously. Cottoning on to her husband's clueless state, Ginny supplied, "Stop it."

Even more confused, the Auror narrowed his eyes behind lenses glinting in the dim light, "Helping?"

Ginny kicked him below the ribs, "It's not helping when you're just showing off. Which is exactly what you've been doing."

Harry bent his body awkwardly to protect himself from further attacks launched by his bride, "No I'm just- can you unstick me so we can have a conversation like adults?"

Twirling her wand expertly, Ginny replied incredulously, "Oh right. That famous maturity so _clearly_ demonstrated when you bet Ron you could toss your peas down the sink from the dinner table?"

Harry eyed her and pulled at his still stuck fingers, "That was a matter of honor."  
Ginny scoffed, "Ok then. What about the time I went away with the Harpies for a week and came home to discover you'd only eaten ice-cream the whole time?"

Looking affronted Harry grumbled, "It was leftover from Teddy's birthday and I didn't want to be _wasteful_."

"Do you have an answer for everything?" Ginny asked with a roll of her eyes.  
Harry put on an air of false dignity, hindered by his stuck-to-his-own-kitchen state, "Is that a bad thing? Hermione says communication is important in a healthy relationship."

Ginny slipped from her perch, shivering at the chilly floor on her bare feet, and unstuck Harry's hands, "Sit."

Shaking out his tired arms, Harry plopped into one of their intentionally mismatched – it's a thing thank you very much – chairs and sighed, "Bloody hell thank you. That was thoroughly uncomfortable."

" _Baby_."

Harry further injured his arguments about maturity by sticking out his tongue in response.

Ginny merely quirked a brow, straddling another of their wooden kitchen chairs.  
After tapping his fingers against the table impatiently, Harry relented first, "So. Your complaint."

"You're tall," Ginny stated simply.

Harry's had dropped back, laughter bubbling up from his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. Once he recovered, he pointed a finger in Ginny's face, which she slapped away. Undeterred, he answered, "I knew you were a smart one. That's why I married you. Good genes."

Ignoring his snark, the young Mrs Potter plowed on, "And I'm not quite as tall."  
"You're short," Harry grinned.

"Not. Quite. As. Tall," Ginny growled.

Picking up stray crumbs with the pad of his finger, Harry responded, "Someone's sensitive."

Ginny pointed a demanding finger in front of his face, his green eyes clouding and becoming slightly unfocused, "Do you want me to tie you to that chair for the night."  
Harry blinked twice, "Will you be here too?" And just in case she missed his 'sultry' tone, he wiggled his eyebrows to get the point across.

"Are you suddenly drunk?"

"What answer would make you happy, baby cakes?" Harry drawled, leaning so their noses nearly touched.

Ginny stared him down unflinchingly, desperately trying to ignore his heady scent, "The true one."

Slowly, deliberately, he placed a barely there kiss to the corner of her mouth and whispered, "I'd say mildly tipsy."

Ginny got a whiff of Ogden's off his breath...or perhaps hers..."Maybe we'll put this off."

Harry pouted, running his stubbled cheek along her smooth one, "So serious."

Clearing her throat, and hopefully her head, Ginny breathed, "You and Ron should be banned from alcohol."

Pulling back, Harry stared her down, "That's not what you said New Year's Eve '98."  
Temporarily distracted by his wide eyes, Ginny eventually answered with a half-hearted retort, "I was tipsy too so- stop getting me off topic."

Harry ran a calloused finger along her jawline, just barely making contact, muttering lowly, "Yes mum."

Slapping his hand away, Ginny sat back, "This is pointless until you're lucid enough to remember."

Harry put his 'injured' digit to her lips, hoping for a kiss. When he was disappointed, his brow furrowed, "Lucid. Isn't that Draco's dad?"

"Don't think I won't bogey you," Ginny rumbled, biting her cheek to keep from laughing.

Sticking out his lower lip, Harry slumped, his chair creaking, "Sorry."

Ginny let out a breath, "The short version is I want you to stop helping me."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, "Uh, _ever_? I thought you liked me helping you get-"

Pointing her wand at his lovely visage menacingly, Ginny answered, patience waning, " _No_. I mean about reaching stuff because I'm not quite as-"

"Because you're short. Oh the _short_ version. I get it. Nice one Gin."

Trying desperately to control her reaction to his gravely voice and the use of his preferred nickname, Ginny answered quickly, "That was not...You really are insufferable drunk aren't you?"

Harry smiled like this was the answer he'd been hoping for, "That's not what you said on your 18th."

Ginny let out a screech worthy of her team name, "Are you going to whip one of those out every time I-"

Eyes lit up, Harry pulled her closer, chair legs scraping in protest, "I can think of _something_ I could whip out."

Ginny's mouth dropped open as she contemplated whether she should ignore her frustration and take her fit husband up on his offer when the floo flared and Hermione practically sprinted into the kitchen, "Ginny. George was out with Ron and Harry tonight."

Over the years, the two women had come to realize that Harry and Ron going out might result in a courteous call from Hannah Longbottom alerting them to the possibility that their husbands would return home minus some body part if allowed to apparate, or perhaps not end up home _at all_ if left to the mercy of the floo network. However, adding George into the mix usually ended with anything from burning effigies dedicated to Doloris Umbridge to emergency trips to Hogwarts because McGonagall had woken to three grown men trying to swim with the Giant Squid. So once Hermione revealed this bit of information, Ginny's eyes widened as she glanced toward her husband, who wiggled his brows and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, gaze never leaving her face. Obviously intending to be alluring. Sadly failing. _Mostly_.

"What did he do?"

Hermione reached around the corner and grabbed Ron's sleeve, dragging him into the room, "I just got it out of this one."

"You did not," Ron mumbled, rubbing his arm where Hermione had gripped it in her righteous anger.

Pinching his forearm, Hermione shot back, "Shut it you."

Mind whizzing, Ginny stroked her chin, "I guess he slipped Harry something?"

Hermione gestured for Ron to answer. He looked hesitant, but seeing Ginny's glare, he relented, "It's some potion that's supposed to help people who aren't good flirts."  
Ginny checked on Harry, who seemed to have gotten confused about halfway through the buttons, but once he saw her looking at him, he puckered his lips in what he apparently believed to be an enticing manner. Ginny narrowed her eyes at her brother, "He gave him this in public?"

Ron looked sheepish, "Well, yes. But he's perfectly in his right mind. So he would only flirt with someone he _wanted_ to. And he's completely in control. Just more…suave?"

" _RON_ ," Hermione practically shouted, her bushy hair nearly cracking with energy.  
Realizing his life could very well be in danger, Ron launched to his own defense, "It doesn't work right away. He was safely home by the time it kicked in. And I didn't even _know_."

Ginny punched Ron's arm for good measure, then turned her attention toward the only other reasonable person in the room, "Hermione, what do I do?"

The other witch played with a curl absentmindedly, "Well. It's a tester, so best I can say is wait it out…and don't let him out of your sight until-"

Ron broke in, "Bloody hell he's stripping."

Hermione covered her eyes as Harry tossed his shirt towards the group, "Right then. Good luck Ginny." As the young Weasley couple left the room and disappeared with poorly controlled laughter into the green flames, Harry focused solely on his remaining audience, "So. Mrs. Potter."

Ginny rolled her eyes, trying to tamp down any…feelings, "Come on then. Let's get you in bed."

Harry pulled his belt from his trouser loops with a flourish and stepped closer, "Will _you_ be there too?"

Her gaze slipping down his chest, before shooting back to his face, Ginny answered authoritatively, "Since we're married I think-"

She broke off as he slowly slid the zip down on his jeans and wriggled his hips. _Right_. _Sultry. Sure._

Her musings were cut off when he closed the distance, stepping out of his jeans in the process. Ginny blinked, _yup. Not even a little bit suave_. _Definitely not enticed by his smoldering emerald eyes, slim hips…muscular thighs…_

Harry whispered, breath spreading across her cheek, "So you'll come?"

"Yeah?" Ginny breathed. _Who am I kidding? Bloody attractive bastard_.

With a very _Harry_ 'whoop,' he hefted her over his shoulder and vaulted down the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut behind them.


End file.
